On the Brink
by RoninSenshi
Summary: Bright crimson was seeping through his blue shirt.  He convulsed as if to wretch, and Arthur's sword sliced upwards an inch.  Though his breath had stopped, his heart was working more furiously than it had his entire life. Angsty/fluff, Merthur shipping.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin ran, ignoring the painful stitch in his left side. He could feel Arthur behind him, and he urged his legs faster still. Arthur hadn't seen him yet, didn't know it was he who had conjured the fire that was setting the village ablaze. Arthur must not catch him, must not find him, but…Merlin saw the glow of torchlight on the wall, heard Arthur's heavy breathing barely five feet behind him, and Merlin continued to race up the tight, winding staircase. He came to a door at the top; it burst into splinters before he touched it, like it had sensed Merlin's desperate need to escape. Yet, the room at the top was a small, dark store room. By the light of the moon through a tiny window he could see boxes, but no way out, nor any place to hide. He heard Arthur reach the landing. Merlin drew himself flat against the back wall. His blood pounded like war drums in his ears. The pain in his side had spread; it felt like needles pressing into his lungs every time he took a breath.  
>Arthur stepped into the tiny room, sword raised.<p>

"Show yourself!" Arthur demanded. Merlin held out a hand in surrender. He tried to speak but his breathing was so staggered that he merely huffed incoherent sounds. He took a gulp of air, and tried to steady himself; he felt he might pass out. As Merlin opened his mouth to try speech again, a large man covered in dirty rags raised an axe behind Arthur's head. The incantation flew instinctively from Merlin's lips, and the man was sent flying into the opposite wall. There was a loud _crack _as he collided with the stone. Simultaneously, Merlin felt something long and smooth glide through his midsection. Then, there was no need for him to regain his breath; it had been taken from him. The cramp in his side had been nothing compared to this. He looked down to see shining metal protruding from his abdomen. Bright crimson was seeping through his blue shirt. He convulsed as if to wretch, and Arthur's sword sliced upwards an inch. Though his breath had stopped, his heart was working more furiously than it had his entire life, as though it knew it had limited time left. It beat viciously, and suddenly Merlin was aware of how it moved through his body, giving him life. Now, that life was seeping out. He watched as it spread further over his blue shirt, and he was terrified. He wanted someone with him, he wanted…

"A-Arth.." Merlin reached for his friend, whose head turned as the axe and man crashed on the floor behind him. Arthur walked toward the man, and his sword went with him. Merlin lurched forward. It felt as though the sword was trying to drag all his insides out with it. He was burning as sure as if he were on a pyre. Merlin wanted to scream, but he had no air. At last, the sword left him, and air shot back into him. He slumped on the tarp behind him, clutching his wound. He was struggling to breathe, taking short, shallow breaths. Merlin tasted iron in his mouth; something wet began to trickle out the corner of his mouth. He thought he saw more torches arrive, but he couldn't be sure; everything was getting blurry…

"By the gods, Arthur!" he heard Lancelot's voice.

"What have you done?" this voice belonged to Gwaine. Merlin saw the figure he knew to be Arthur turn.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice sounded far away. There was a clattering of metal; Arthur had dropped his sword. Merlin felt a gloved hand on top of his.

"Merlin? Stay awake, come on!" A warm and sweaty palm touched his cheek. "Damn it, Merlin! Don't you close your eyes!" It was terror, uncontained, true terror that Merlin heard in his friend's voice. He wanted very much to obey Arthur, but his eyelids were terribly heavy…if this was dying then it wasn't so bad. He could feel the heat of his friends gathered around him; he wasn't alone. He could simply…go to sleep…

"Wake up! Merlin!" Merlin felt hot water drop on his cheeks.

Thanks for reading, more chapters to come!


	2. Chapter 2

Aw, I'm so touched by the reviews and all the people who put this on Favorite Story/Story Alert! Thank you, I hope I won't disappoint anyone!

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><p>Arthur pursued his quarry up a steep, twisting stairway. Gwaine and Lancelot were twenty feet behind him, but he couldn't wait for them. He was sweating, and his legs were beginning to tire under his heavy chainmail. The sorcerer had led him on a long chase, but the hunt was coming to its end. Arthur's senses were supercharged. He could see the sorcerer's shadow swaying in his torchlight, he could hear his faltering breath, and he could even smell the sorcerer's fatigue. It wouldn't be long now. The screams of people below as they fled the fire now feeding on their village rose to Arthur's ears. He felt a twinge of anger in his stomach. Because of magic, those people would spend the next year trying to regain what they lost this night.<p>

There was a loud _bang_ up ahead and Arthur's attention snapped fully back to the situation at hand. A few seconds later he reached the landing. The door had been blown apart. He entered the tiny room, sword held high. There was a figure hiding in the corner, panting heavily.

"Show yourself!" Arthur ordered. The sorcerer raised his hand in a manner that Arthur knew to mean "I surrender". Arthur relaxed his grip on his sword and let it drop a few inches. Just as he did, strange words issued from the corner, and the eyes of the sorcerer _glowed_. Arthur lunged with his sword and felt it hit its mark; he hoped desperately that the spell aimed at him had not been completed. He didn't think it had, he felt normal. There was a thud and a clatter of metal behind him. Arthur whirled around, taking his sword with him. He inched closer to the source of the sound and by the light of his torch found a man slumped unconscious on the ground, a heavy sword lying next to him. Arthur bent toward him, the man looked familiar. Yes, he was the one who was responsible for the violent greeting Arthur and his party had received the day before upon entering the town. Having been so caught up in chasing the sorcerer, Arthur must not have noticed this following behind him. And by the look of that axe…the spell then, wasn't meant for him…Lancelot and Gwaine rushed into the room. There was a moment when they both stopped. Then Gwaine moved further into the room and raised his torch higher, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"By the gods, Arthur!" Lancelot breathed, horror-stricken.

"What have you done?" Gwaine roared. Arthur turned around, and by the light of all three torches it was made clear.

Merlin was laying on a musty tarp, clutching a gaping wound in his midsection. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing shallow and ragged. Dark blood dribbled from his mouth. Arthur was suddenly winded, like a giant had hit him in the stomach. His warm sweat had just turned cold and he was shaking.

"Merlin?" he asked. Merlin replied only with more rapid huffs of breath. Fear washed over him, rushing into his head. With it came the ability to move again. Arthur threw his sword aside and ran to his servant. He crashed to his knees and bent over Merlin. He pressed a hand on top of Merlin's, keeping steady pressure on the wound.

"Merlin? Stay awake, come on!" Arthur pleaded. He tore his glove from his other hand with his teeth and touched Merlin's face. "Damn it, Merlin! Don't close your eyes!" His voice shook, a feeling of cold dread crawled through his body like ice. Merlin's breathing was becoming slower; his eyes were closing almost lazily. "Wake up! Merlin!" Hot, stinging water crashed over his eyes like water through a broken dam. He shut his eyes tight, and those tears dropped on Merlin's face.

"No…" he whispered. Arthur pressed his forehead to his friend's. He wrapped his arms around Merlin, embracing him.

"Please…no…" he prayed. He buried his face in Merlin's shoulder and wept, holding him. Arthur felt as though he had entered a dream realm. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be true…His mind was wading through a thick mist of unreality, and yet… There was a great ache in his heart; it was an agony worse than the pain of any weapon that had ever pierced his skin…and it was inescapable. A thick, heavy blanket was wrapped tight around his chest and neck and would not allow him any reprieve from his pain. It constricted his throat so he could not scream, and the grief in his heart could not evaporate through it. All he could was whimper and moan incoherently into his friend's shoulder. This was intolerable, he could not lose Merlin. Nonetheless, the truth wriggled into his brain like the dirtiest and most despicable insect: He was clutching Merlin's limp body in his arms.

"Arthur," Gwaine touched his shoulder. Arthur shrugged him off. Neither Lancelot nor Gwaine made another attempt to speak to him. Arthur didn't want to let go, didn't want to leave Merlin here… His sobs subsided. He ran his bare hand into Merlin's sweaty hair and pulled him closer still. After a moment like this, Arthur felt a faint, warm puff of air pass his ear. He held his breath, and prayed it hadn't been his imagination. Slowly, Arthur became aware of Merlin's chest moving up and down, however slightly. Arthur gently laid him back on the tarp. Had he really been so stupid that he didn't check? He placed a hand on Merlin's chest. His breathing was shallower than ever, but it was steady. He put two fingers to Merlin's neck. Again, his pulse was almost non-existent, yet steady. Arthur dried his eyes. He tossed off his shoulder armor and chainmail and ripped off the bottom length of his shirt.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Lancelot asked, confused by Arthur's strange behavior.

"He's not dead," said Arthur quickly.

"What?" said Lancelot dully. Arthur looked over at his companions. Both their eyes were red and streaming too.

"He's not dead, "Arthur repeated, hope flittering in his chest. "Help me tie this around him."

Lancelot and Gwaine held Merlin's body while Arthur died the strip of cloth tightly over his wound.

"Downstairs." Arthur nodded toward the door.

"Arthur," Gwaine had a look on his face like he detested what he was about to say, "The village is burning, even if we find a physician he'll be overwhelmed as it is."

"We must get him to Camelot," answered Arthur promptly.

"Camelot is two days ride from here, he'll never make it," Lancelot too, had a look of shameful disgust on his face, like he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"Fine!" Arthur snapped, "You two can stay and sort out this mess, but help me get Merlin down the stairs!" There was no more argument. Between the three of them they carried Merlin swiftly and safely out of the castle.

Arthur's mare was well-trained, even while people were fleeing about her she stayed where she was, though she did look slightly alarmed. Arthur laid Merlin gently on the ground, went to his mare and took off her saddle and bags, all except his canteen, which he swung around his shoulders. He took hold of the reins and leapt on to her bare back with ease.

"Gwaine, Lancelot," Arthur spoke, determinedly keeping his voice steady, "There is some rope in my bag. Hoist Merlin up behind me and lash him to me." Gwaine and Lancelot exchanged looks.

"Hurry!" Arthur barked. They did as they were told.

"Arthur," Gwaine started, "It's still a two day ride…"

"I should've bought some speed by removing her saddle. Besides…"

"Besides?" Gwaine asked.

"I believe in Merlin. He won't die before I reach Camelot. I'll see you there Gwaine, Lancelot," he nodded to the other knight before clicking his tongue. His mare, anxious to be rid of this village as well, immediately obeyed his command. She streaked down the village streets and was soon out of sight of Lancelot and Gwaine.


	3. Chapter 3

This is what I call a bridge chapter, I hope I kept it moderately interesting. I've written quite a bit ahead, a new update should be out soon. Once again, thank you to those who reviewed! Your comments make me feel fuzzy inside. So does the number of people who added this to favorites/alerts, I'm so surprised! *love* Also, I had a typo in the last chapter, please do point those out. I read these over but stuff gets missed anyway.

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><p>Merlin was awake but he kept his eyes closed. He was laying on something very soft and comfortable. The pleasant scent of flowers was carried to him by a warm breeze. Even with his eyes closed he could tell he was in a sunny place. This was a good place. Was it…Merlin struggled to think, the balmy air made it difficult, was this heaven? The last thing he remembered was being run through with a sword…had he died? He must have, there was no way he could have survived that…<p>

Even though the air, perfumed with flowers, the feathery-soft bed, and his own body told him he should simply drift back to sleep, Merlin made the decision to open his eyes. After all, he had always wondered what heaven would look like. He made to move, but there was something wrong. His body was heavy and sore and when he tried to move a severe pain shot through him, radiating from his midsection. He willed his eyes to open, and they did.

He was staring at a dark red, velvet canopy. He looked down and around, as much as he could without trying to move again. There was a wash basin, a wardrobe, and an armor rack, all of which he recognized instantly for he had cleaned them many times before. He was in Arthur's room, in Arthur's bed. As he realized this, there was a shriek and the sound of breaking pottery. The sudden noise made him start and jump, which cause a wave of pain to crash through his body.

"Gaius?" a voice shouted, "Lancelot?" Then, before Merlin had a chance to sort any of this out, he was smothered in a tight embrace and kisses were being planted all over his face.

"Oh, _Merlin_!" the voice squealed. At last, the arms holding him released just enough for Merlin to be able to see his assailant.

"Gwen?" he asked incredulously. With difficulty he raised his arm high enough to touch her shoulder, to make sure she was really there. "Then," he continued, "I'm not dead?"

"We all thought you were," Gwen choked, wiping tears from her eyes, "Everyone thought this would be your deathbed, until last night when you finally showed improvement. But I didn't think you'd wake today! Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry, I just…can't seem to stop crying!"

"It's all right, here, help me sit up properly."

"Of course." It took a bit of struggling, but Merlin was rightly set up when Gaius, Lancelot, and Gwaine entered the room. Merlin smiled at the sight of his friends and Gaius's kindly face.

"Sorry we didn't come straight away," Lancelot apologized, "But Gwaine would have thrown a fit had we gone to get him."

"We thought you were done for," Gwaine smiled, but his tone was grave.

"Well, I'm alive!" Merlin said in a cheery tone and gave them all a reassuring look. "I guess I have you to thank, Gaius."

"I did what I could," Gaius replied seriously, "But if Arthur hadn't gotten you back here so quickly all my efforts would have been for naught. He made it back from that village in a day. I don't know where he found the speed, but any later and you would have been beyond my help."

"Where is Arthur anyway?" asked Merlin, "I'd think he'd be wanting his bed back now that I'm awake. Why am I in his bed, by the way?"

The air in the room shifted drastically. Gwaine and Lancelot exchanged darkly significant glances, Gwen looked away. Gaius folded his hands solemnly.

"What? What's happened?" Merlin scanned their faces for clues.

"Merlin," Lancelot shifted uncomfortably, "How much do you remember about what happened?" Merlin furrowed his brow.

"Well, I remember being run through pretty clearly."

"Do, er, do you remember who did it?" Merlin didn't have to search his memory long.

"Yes…" Merlin's throat was suddenly dry, "It was Arthur." The realization made him a bit sick to his stomach. He looked down at the fine crimson bedspread.

"Merlin," said Gwen softly, "Don't take his absence here as a sign that he doesn't care. Until you showed improvement last night, he hadn't left this room for a week. He ladled water into your mouth, he kept a cool cloth on your head, and he even slept here on the floor beside your bed. I just don't think…" she took a deep breath, "I don't think he wanted to be here when you woke up."

"Ah, right," said Merlin, more shortly than he had intended. "Well tell him I want to see him."

"Merlin…"said Gwen pleadingly. Gaius interrupted her.

"Now is not the time, dear," he said gently. Gaius turned his attention to Merlin, gazing seriously at him.

"There's one other thing you must be aware of," he said, "Arthur knows." Merlin shook his head, confused.

"What?"

"We all know," said Gwaine, "About you." Merlin's eyes widened, cold understanding drenching him.

"You _know_," he said darkly.

"It seems," Gwaine continued, "that you used magic to—"

"—to save Arthur from being hacked to bits," Merlin finished. "He heard my incantation, saw my eyes, and he lunged."

"He didn't know who you were," said Lancelot pointedly.

"Does that matter?" Merlin snapped before he could stop himself. Lancelot looked taken aback by his tone.

"I-I'm sorry," Lancelot murmured. Merlin took a deep, steadying breath that made his wound stretch uncomfortably. His head cleared of his initial flash of anger.

"No, you're right, of course," said Merlin, a bit stiffly. "Just tell Arthur I'd like to see him. I'm not angry." He wasn't sure if the last part was true. If it hadn't been him that Arthur had stuck with his sword, if it had been someone else, Merlin doubted that Arthur would have tried so hard to save that magician. He would have let that person die and not given it a second thought, all because they practiced magic. Then again, Merlin knew Arthur well enough to know that Arthur was going through hell. His sympathy for Arthur overwhelmed the angry heat in his stomach. When he spoke again his voice was softer.

"Tell Arthur that I want to see him, please." A tense silence followed; no one was sure of what to say. Merlin stared down at the bedcovers again. It was Gwaine who finally cut the tension.

"Well, Lancelot and I must return to training. Leon's leading it and we'll be doing extra lunges for every minute we're gone." He put a hand on Merlin's head and ruffed up his hair. "Glad to have you definitively back among the living, Merlin. I'll stop by later for a chat, if you're feeling up to it." He flashed Merlin a toothy smile.

"I'm not going anywhere," Merlin grinned back at him. Gwaine clapped Lancelot on the shoulder and they left.

"Gwen," said Gaius, "Merlin hasn't eaten anything proper for three days, I'm sure he would enjoy a bit of solid food."

"Of course," she smiled at Merlin, "I'll go get you something from the kitchens." She exited as well. Gaius sat on a stool next to the bed.

"Merlin," he started, his voice grave, "I wasn't sure I should mention it in front of the others, but I don't know how you survived that day, especially rocking around on the back of a horse. You must have some very strong magic indeed." Merlin smirked at him.

"Either that, or destiny won't let me off that easily."

Arthur sat on the stone floor outside his room. He had been there, listening, trying to gather enough courage to enter, but had ultimately failed. Gwaine, Lancelot and Gwen entered the hall one by one. They all glanced at him simultaneously. Gwen bent down and gently touched his cheek before heading off to the kitchens. Gwaine scowled at him and said nothing. He turned on his heel and stomped down the hallway toward the training grounds. Lancelot sat down beside him.

"You heard him," said Lancelot at length. "He wants to see you."

"I can't," said Arthur blankly.

"Why?"

"Because I've been sitting out here for the last half hour, and I haven't been able to go in."

"Arthur," Lancelot gazed seriously at him, "you're the bravest person I know. You've faced down so many beasts—"

"And right now I'd rather face all of them at once without a sword than go in there and see Merlin's face," Arthur finished.

"But _why?_" Lancelot asked again. Arthur didn't look at him. He stared straight ahead at the stone wall. If he looked at his friend's face, he wouldn't be able to say it.

"Lancelot, I saw you last week by the lake," he started, struggling to keep his voice from breaking, "with Gwen." Though he had been dreading this moment, he was a little taken aback to find that saying it aloud didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

Lancelot let out a groan and Arthur heard his head smack the wall.

"I…I don't know what to say," he mumbled.

"When I saw you together," Arthur continued, breathing steadily, "I felt like someone had reached inside me, twisted my heart and wouldn't let go. It was like I had fallen into this dark hole and I couldn't see the light above me. But I knew that if I started climbing upwards, I'd eventually get out, and everything would be okay, you know? But then I…Merlin…" Arthur couldn't bring himself to voice aloud what he had done. "When I thought Merlin had died, there was no getting out. Half of me was gone and what was left was only a pale shell. He means more to me than…" Arthur trailed off.

"Then you should be sitting in there with him." Arthur looked at his friend for the first time.

"I can never ask forgiveness for what I've done." Lancelot smiled consolingly.

"I think that Merlin has already forgiven you." Arthur's eyes widened, as if the most impossible thing in the world had happened. Lancelot stood up.

"I really do need to join the rest of the knights on the training field. Arthur, about Gwen…"

"There's no going back," said Arthur stiffly. "My friend," he added more softly.

"It's just that—" Lancelot began, but Arthur held up his hand.

"Nothing has changed between us," he assured. "So, see you later?" Lancelot nodded.

"We're all planning to bring our suppers in here and eat with Merlin. You should join us." Arthur gave a noncommittal grunt.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! Thanks all for the lovely reviews *love* We're still on the bridge, but it's a flashback bridge now. I wrote this bit to answer someone who said that Arthur forgave Lancelot too easily. I thought it was a great idea to flesh it out, so thank you and I hope this puts it in perspective a bit.

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><p>Arthur was all but sulking on top of his horse. He didn't want to be here. He <em>really<em> didn't want be here, traveling to a tiny village to settle some petty dispute, sleeping on the hard ground, eating what Merlin called food. With Lancelot. He scowled at the back of his friend's head ten feet in front of him, talking animatedly with Gwaine.

A week ago today Arthur though it would make a pleasant addition to his ride if he went by the lake, stick his feet in the cool water, let his horse have a drink. He'd had no chance to do any of these things, however.

His scowl darkened further. Lancelot wiped sweat from the back of his neck. Arthur saw Guinevere's arms wrapped around it, grabbing at Lancelot's hair. Great, hot rocks of anger and hurt dropped heavily into his stomach. It had been awhile since she had kissed him that way. Now Arthur knew why.

"Talk about if looks could kill…"

"Huh?" said Arthur dumbly, still focused on Gwen's most perfect fingers wrapped in Lancelot's dark curls.

"You've been glaring at Lancelot," Merlin muttered.

"Have I?" asked Arthur, hoping he sounded nonchalant. Merlin wasn't fooled.

"Whatever he did, forgive him. You're even more of a prat when you're sulking. Besides, he's your best mate."

"You're my best mate," said Arthur without thinking. When Merlin didn't immediately reply with a witty, thinly veiled insult, Arthur looked over at him, Lancelot and Guinevere temporarily forgotten. Merlin gave him a half-smirk.

" 'Course, but don't you like to pretend otherwise?" Arthur grunted noncommittally in response, but his heart flitted playfully in his chest. Anyone who didn't know Merlin would have missed the subtle elation in his voice, but not Arthur. He'd made Merlin happy.

"Don't look so cheery, Merlin. I'd rather have a friend who didn't constantly make a fool of himself."

"And I'd rather have one who wasn't a royal ass." Merlin's face was serious but his tone was teasing.

It was easy to fall in to conversation with Merlin. Arthur was able to ignore Lancelot's presence without difficulty.

All that changed in the early evening, however. While Arthur's mood was moderately improved by Merlin's prattle, once they had dismounted it was hard not to interact with Lancelot. Whenever his friend, if he could still be call that, spoke to him, Arthur felt the thick, blunt needle sticking into his heart progress further. He found that he couldn't look Lancelot in the eye either.

"Arthur," Lancelot called. Arthur found his teeth glued together and merely answered,

"Hm?" But Lancelot hadn't heard him.

"Arthur?" Unprovoked fury gusted through Arthur's chest and he whirled around.

"What?" he said, far more sharply than he meant it. Lancelot's face was filled with hurt and confusion. That angered Arthur even more; what right did he have to feel hurt? Then Lancelot's gaze locked on to his. The eyes that had expressed so much adoration for Guinevere, he remembered. His stomach turned against him; a burning sensation spread through his chest, replacing the indignation.

"I-I just…Gwaine…" Lancelot stammered, clearly taken aback, "We're going hunting-for dinner…wanna come?" Arthur shook his head, fearing what would happen if he opened his mouth. He tore his eyes away from Lancelot's.

"O-okay then…" Lancelot walked away, looking completely befuddled as to what had just happened.

Once he was positive that Lancelot was out of sight, Arthur collapsed on the ground and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His stomach had begun to settle, but his heart beat hot and rapid, turning out a typhoon of sensations inside him that he couldn't begin to sort out. He wanted to run to Gwen and apologize for whatever he had done and promise to make things right again, or he wanted to banish her from Camelot, tell her that he never wished to see her again, that he didn't know why he had ever loved her, and anything else that would make her hurt as badly as him. As for Lancelot, well, he needed to be beaten senseless or forgiven or…or…Arthur didn't know, but tears were lacing the rim of his eyes, begging to fall…he wouldn't let them. Not for her or him…not for his utterly pulverized heart or his lost friendship. He was clenching his fists so hard his nails were biting into his palms; his bottom lip was starting to swell from the pressure of his teeth…

"Oh, come now…" said a familiar voice, "I know you don't like sleeping outdoors, but really…" Merlin had just come up the rise of a hill, carrying two buckets of water. Arthur straightened himself out quickly, hoping he hadn't looked as pathetic as he thought.

"I thought you'd be out hunting with Gwaine and…" he couldn't bring himself to say, 'Lancelot'.

"Nah. You know me, it's not my thing."

"You come with me when I go," Arthur pointed out.

"Sure, but Gwaine and Lancelot aren't nearly as helpless as you." Despite himself, Arthur smiled.

"You truly don't understand the fact that I'm a prince, do you, Merlin?"

"I just don't think you should be placated," Merlin groaned, setting down the water buckets. "Want a cup?" he offered. Arthur waved his hand in refusal. Merlin sat down next to Arthur, leaned back on his pack and sighed contentedly.

"I know you hate being away from the castle but…well, look around." Arthur did.

They had settled on a hillside overlooking a creek. The grass around them was a green darkened by the long summer. Yellow and purple flowers dotted the ground and were tall and open wide, drinking in the last bit of sun before autumn. The sun was growing low, drenching the earth in a warm crimson glow before it left. It seemed to be taking Arthur's torrential flood of emotions with it. He was calmer, his head clearer, and the stake in his heart let up almost to the point of disappearing. This…this is what he had been desperate for; an escape from everything. Here, there was no impending confrontation with Gwen and Lancelot; it was a place where he didn't have to think or feel pain. He looked over at Merlin, smiling, feeling better than he had in days. Merlin beamed back, his usually affable grin enhanced by the sun's brilliance. The color of his hair, too. Light brown streaks among the dark brown were augmented and suddenly gleaming in the late evening light. His pale skin radiated with the red and yellow, his lips were the color of an apple picked on the last day of harvest, and, Arthur imagined, were just as sweet…he wondered if it would be all right to have just the smallest taste…Arthur reached out and touched Merlin's arm; muscles made hard by daily work twitched under his hand. He sought out Merlin's blue eyes, ready to lean in and graze, just graze his lips with his own.

_Wait…_he thought. The wonderful world he'd been in crashed. Merlin furrowed his brow at him briefly, then shook his head and got up; he clearly wasn't going to ask what had just happened. Arthur wasn't sure himself, he felt rather dazed. He was certain though, that no matter what happened in other parts of his life, he had Merlin, and that was a lot.

Now, Arthur stood with his hand on the door to his room. In his other hand he held a dinner plate with food that had long since grown cold. He didn't feel he could enter his room and shatter the warm laughter he heard behind it, nor would his honor allow him to walk away. He was stuck. He did want to see Merlin, see him smile again. Perhaps that would replace the Merlin in his nightmares whose face was stubbornly lifeless. _Just do it, _he told himself. His grip on the door handle tightened. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then again, what would Merlin have to say? The dinner plate began to shake in his unsteady hand. _Do it, you coward,_ said the firm voice inside his head.

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><p>Back to the present now, fun things are sure to happen next chapter!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who read this and I'm sorry for not posting the final bit for so long. I wrote this at least 5 times over, with it being different each time, trying to find the best balance. I almost thought I overdid the angst, but then I realized, hey I've posted this under angst...so hopefully that's what you're here for, right? Angst and fluff.

Also, for those who are following the fourth season, I'm uploading a short coda I wrote to 4x03, so if you like this then check that out! Thanks again for sticking with me, and thank you so so much for all the reviews and story/author alerts. I feel so warm and fuzzy it's like I have a kitty inside me. ...That's weird, isn't it? Well, enjoy!

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><p><em>Arthur stood with his hand on the door to his room. In his other hand he held a dinner plate with food that had long since grown cold. He didn't feel he could enter his room and shatter the warm laughter he heard behind it, nor would his honor allow him to walk away. He was stuck. He did want to see Merlin, see him smile again. Perhaps that would replace the Merlin in his nightmares whose face was stubbornly lifeless. Just do it, he told himself. His grip on the door handle tightened. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then again, what would Merlin have to say? The dinner plate began to shake in his unsteady hand. Do it, you coward, said the firm voice inside his head.<em>

The door was wrenched open from the inside before Arthur was able to push it. He was yanked into the room, tripping over himself in an effort to keep his balance. His dinner plate dropped with a crash.

"Ah…" said Gwaine, looking startled. Arthur steadied himself. Lancelot, Gwen, and Gaius were seated around Merlin, empty plates in hand, all with an expression of mild surprise on their faces.

"Merlin…" Arthur breathed. Merlin stared at him, wide-eyed before he shook his head minutely and looked out the far window. There was a moment in which everyone seemed entirely uncomfortable.

"Well," Gwaine cleared his throat. He had propped his foot in front of the door, holding it open. "I was going to go see about dessert, but I think this is our cue to get out. 'Night Merlin," he said, more lightheartedly than he looked. Everyone mumbled the same thing. Lancelot squeezed Merlin's shoulder reassuringly. As she passed, Gwen touched Arthur's cheek softly. His stomach flopped with a dull pain. She followed Lancelot into the corridor. Gwaine was the last to leave, shutting the door securely as he did.

Arthur stood, immobile. He was having a similar dilemma to the one he had experienced outside the room. He couldn't leave, and he didn't want to approach a Merlin who was steadfastly ignoring his presence. Yet, as cold as Merlin's demeanor was, it was a relief to see him. Arthur had been there when Merlin had first opened his eyes, shouted himself hoarse for Gaius, but had not seen him since. Part of him hadn't truly believed in Merlin's recovery until now.

"I should've come sooner," Arthur admitted quietly.

"You should've," Merlin agreed with a twang of bitterness in his voice.

"I just…"

"Didn't want to face the consequences of your actions?" Merlin finished. Arthur felt a raw blade slice into his heart.

"I'm sorry." He shifted his weight, something pressing on him as if he were clad in full armor. Had he been a lesser man, he thought he might have fled. When Merlin turned glacial eyes on him, Arthur knew he would have fled. As it was, he matched Merlin's gaze.

"What will you do with me?" asked Merlin after a long while.

"Wha?" Arthur answered stupidly.

"Gallows, guillotine, crossbow firing squad, burned at the stake, or will you be a bit kinder and just poison me?" Merlin clarified far too casually, and it made Arthur's stomach twist and burning fizz rise in his throat. In light of Merlin's life hanging in the balance, it hadn't occurred to him to remember that his friend had been revealed as a sorcerer.

"'Sorry Merlin, but magic's outlawed after all.'" Merlin continued without waiting for him to answer, "Couldn't do me a favor, could you? Visit my grave every once in a while. I've polished your armor for you enough times to deserve that."

"Knock it off!" Arthur couldn't keep his voice from rising and had to swallow hard to keep his dinner from rising; the knife that had stuck him was wedging his heart apart and he thought it might break soon. "You know I'm not going to do any of that!"

"Just banishment then? That's kind of you."

"Why are you being like this?" Temper made itself present in Arthur's voice now. He was beginning to feel indignant as well as sick.

"What? You mean why am I upset, a bit peeved? You bloody ran me through, Arthur! Me! Did you think I'd say that everything was okay, just perfectly peachy, don't worry about a thing? Because that's Merlin, isn't it?" Merlin's voice was rising in a gradual crescendo, "After everything I've done for you, I should be able to take this in stride, right? But mostly, you were completely careless with another person's life and if I weren't me, you wouldn't have cared, wouldn't have—"

"Stop it!" Arthur cried, and he was as out of breath as if Merlin's words had been physical blows. He started to make his way towards the bed, finding his legs shaky. "You're right, you're completely…" Black fuzz was beginning to creep in from the sides of his vision and blood was throbbing in his head and bile in his throat as he knelt on the floor next to the bed, "…but it hurts." His hand clutched at his chest, "It really hurts, Merlin."

He felt a hand in his hair.

"Arthur…" Merlin's voice was shivering. "Arthur?" Lips pressed against the top of his head.

"I wouldn't have been all right if you had died," he choked, "You're the one constant thing in my life, the one person I can trust…I cannot lose you."

"You haven't, you won't," Merlin said, sounding a little startled.

"Are you going to leave?" he asked weakly.

"'Course not. Are you all right?" He nodded. After a moment his head had stopped pounding too badly and he opened his eyes, his heart tingled uneasily when he saw Merlin's horrified expression. Merlin touched a finger to his own eye; Arthur did the same. His face was wet.

"I didn't say those things to hurt you," said Merlin quietly.

"Yes, you did." Arthur wiped his face on his sleeve. "It's okay, I deserve it."

"You don't. Not like this." Merlin said it plain, sincere. Arthur really wanted to believe him.

Silence settled between them again, friendly this time, instead of the suffocating blanket it had been earlier. Merlin's hand was still in his hair, stroking him consolingly. Arthur leaned into it, letting his eyelids droop, feeling calmer now than he had it weeks. He took Merlin's other hand in his, pressing it to his cheek, feeling him there, warm and real and alive…

"Arthur." Merlin's hand had stopped moving through his hair. Arthur blinked up at him. The candlelight was shining in his dark hair just the way the sun had on the hilltop. His cheeks were a little pink, his brow furrowed in a question, and Arthur didn't think about it.

He swept Merlin's lips with his own, barely more than a breeze puffing against skin. It was enough to get a taste though, honeyed and salty. When they joined again, Arthur's tongue stroked his bottom lip before their mouths met. He risked more pressure this time, and his fingers curled around Merlin's wrist.

"Arthur," Merlin said again, "Don't." And he shouldn't, not now, but…

"I know you still trust me," Arthur replied. Merlin brushed a remaining tear from Arthur's eye with his thumb.

"I'll never not trust you." Again, he professed it with such naked honesty that Arthur couldn't help but believe him. For the first time in weeks he felt like everything would be all right. He let out his relief in a staggered sigh and leaned his forehead against Merlin's. With that burst of relief came sudden exhaustion. He had been wound and tied and twisted up in so many ways, and now all of it was relaxing. Before he could excuse himself and swear to return in the morning however, Merlin said,

"Come here," and motioned to the space of unoccupied bed. A dim bell went off inside Arthur's head, telling him not to, that there were still things to be resolved. The kiss, for one. He had kissed Merlin, and he didn't lament doing so.

In the end however, he was far too tired, and after two weeks of sleeping on the floor, far too deep in want of his own bed to refuse. So he climbed gingerly over Merlin and burrowed under the sweet velvet comforter. Merlin blew out the candle, leaving only moonlight streaming into the room. Under the covers, Merlin grasped Arthur's hand, squeezing it tight. He breathed. They had been through so much in a very short time, with Merlin being brought to the brink of death. And now, Arthur thought, they might be perched on the brink of something else.


	6. Chapter 6

I decided to write a little epilogue for this story. Enjoy the very end (I hope)!

Two months later, Merlin lazed into Arthur's chambers and dropped himself into the nearest chair. He propped his feet up on the second nearest chair and let his eyes close for what seemed like the first time in weeks. He was just on the precipice, right about to sink into sweet, darling sleep when Arthur's chamber door opened and closed with a bang. Merlin jerked upright in his seat.

"Ah, you're back," Arthur greeted. "I've received word of a previously unknown Druid camp to the north. When will you be ready to leave?"

"Go away," Merlin muttered. If he hadn't been cranky upon arrival, he certainly was now. All hopes of a decent night's sleep and a hot meal were being chased away. Bracing himself on the arms of the chair, Arthur leaned in close.

"My chambers," he reminded smartly, with a bit of a grin. When he moved for Merlin's lips, Merlin ducked under his arms and out of the chair.

"No. I mean it Arthur," he spat, anger that can come only from being constantly cold and sleep-deprived welling up in his throat. "I'm not going anywhere until I've had a good rest. It's been barely a month since I recovered from your sword-happy incident, and only because you made me use magic. Do you know how much power it took to heal myself? I'm still drained and you keep making me go—" and then he stopped, because Arthur's face resembled that of someone who had just been hit on the back of the head.

"Oh, oh…Arthur," Merlin reached out and took his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up. But you know what I'm saying. I'm completely exhausted. And—" Arthur raised his eyebrows in a question. Merlin felt his ears burn before he said it.

"I, well…I don't see you often, do I?" As he watched a smirk crawl over Arthur's face he felt his cheeks burn too.

"Stuff it. Not a word," Merlin warned. "I'll turn you into a toad."

"You accepted my offer to become Court Sorcerer," Arthur reminded, moving closer. Though this wasn't the first time in the past two months that Arthur had approached him with a decisively non-kingly look in his eyes; it still made Merlin's heart throw itself recklessly against his ribcage.

"I didn't know I'd have to wear this ridiculous outfit." Merlin threw his arms up to emphasize the impeding length of the sleeves and kicked his left foot out to indicate how often he stepped on the troublesome magenta robe.

"It also means having to be my envoy to the Druids whom my father persecuted the last twenty years of his reign. It puts you far too distant from me." Arthur's nose was touching his. Merlin was sure he looked like a strawberry with black hair; his face was so hot.

"I promise," Arthur continued, "Next time you go out, I'll come with you and make my amends to the Druids in person." Arthur's warm breath danced over Merlin's lips and he felt his throat go dry. When Arthur kissed him, a pleasant heat shot down his spine, making him squirm and goose bumps break out on his skin.

Merlin still felt uncomfortable enjoying Arthur's touch as much as he did. Arthur had been able to adopt an easy, flirtatious manner with him when they were alone. Merlin, however, had much more trouble accepting Arthur's rough fingers on him, even though they felt brilliant, and the way Arthur's firm and broad chest felt on his back at night when they shared a bed, even though it made him delight and snuggle closer.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, and Merlin realized his hand was on Arthur's chest, pushing him away. Merlin dropped his head onto Arthur's shoulder. Crap.

"It's not—"

"Me?" Arthur offered, a painful grin on his face.

"It really isn't. I've thought about it a little, with you, nothing more than a passing fancy though." Merlin felt his face turning pink again. "I mean, I'm still getting comfortable in my own skin again, so it really is—"

"You," Arthur supplemented again.

"Right." Now Merlin knew his face was red, he felt his skin tingling all the way up to his ears. "You know, if we had a little more time to spend together, I might get comfortable quicker." As a spur of the moment after thought he added quietly, "And we could do stuff quicker."

For a split second Merlin thought, hoped Arthur hadn't heard him. But then, for the second time, Arthur got a look on his face like someone had whacked him with a piece of lumber and his face colored. That look disappeared as soon as it came however, and Arthur cuffed Merlin around the head with a,

"Ha, go to sleep, you!" And pushed Merlin onto his bed. "We'll leave for that camp first thing in the morning." At long last, it was Merlin's turn to give a sly grin.

"We?"

"Shut up, Merlin."


End file.
